Lose Myself With You
by ChelberNo.1
Summary: Modern AU. During WW I or II. Katara is all alone, with only a roof over her head and a few trinkets to her name. She doesn't know what to do, and is close to losing herself. But, after a bombing, she discovers and saves an abandoned boy, Aang, from underneath the rubble. Now all they have is each other. Kataangst. Second Chapter up! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah! my second FanFic! It only took me a few months. Over the holidays I was trying to finish a few, but still trying to get the hang of writing. Then me older sister said that I had to write her a Vampire Knight one, so I'm trying. I really am. Now school is back on, and my bestie moved away (Are you reading this, Chels?) so I'm spending my lunch times at the Library (cue Sokka's 'AT THE LIBRARY!'. hehehe) trying to write, but it's hard with people hanging over your shoulder.**

**So, this one is, uh, set in our world, during WW I or II. It's a Kataang :). The original version of this was NOT a FanFic, but you could tell that I shipeed Kataang, so I changed it a little bit and Here ya Go! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

* * *

_Aang's POV_

* * *

When he woke, she wasn't there.

He sat up, clutching his side and crying out in pain, but she was gone. Katara was gone.

The boy started to panic. Where was she? She said she'd be there for him. She _said _she wouldn't leave him. He struggled to his feet, and looked around the room for her. She wasn't there.

_Katara . . . please . . ._

But he needed her! She was all he had left. Everyone else had picked up and walked out on him. They had left him for the bombs, the war. He had lost everything. He had almost lost himself, but she had found him. She saved him. She'd helped him recover from everything. She couldn't just leave!

But she had. Why else would she be gone? She probably blamed him for everything, just like the others.

The others – his so-called 'family' – had always blamed him. Everything – _their _poverty, the war, their own Goddamn _headaches_ from drinking and yelling too much – was his fault, according to them. They punished him, beat him, almost _killed _him sometimes, because they had nothing better to do.

And he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't even leave, especially not during the war. Where would he go? How would he survive? So he learned to live with it. He learned to live with being a _failure, _even though he did nothing wrong. He learned to live with _them, _those sick, twisted people. He learned to cope with a life of pain.

But then they'd abandoned him, locking him up in that building, making sure he wouldn't follow.

Leaving him for the bombs. Making sure he couldn't escape.

Making sure he would die. Because they hated him. Because everyone hated him.

Even Katara.

Why? Why did everyone leave him?

The boy lost the ability to breathe, and fell to his knees. He gasped for breath, and the pain from his wounds - not just the physical ones - washed over him, drowning everything else out.

He needed her. And she wasn't here. _Help_, he thought, as his sight dimmed. _Please. Come back. Make the pain go away. Don't leave me._

No answer.

_Katara . . . please . . . I need you . . ._

Everything faded to black.

* * *

_Katara's POV_

* * *

The girl was out in the street, trying to trade something – anything – for medicine. Aang's fever had risen, and if she didn't do something, she was going to lose him. And herself, with him.

She needed him, as much as she needed air. She didn't know why, but she did.

Her father and brother were in the army, fighting the war. Her mother, dead; killed in a freak accident. No one else had come to care for her. No one else wanted her. For almost a year she had lived by herself. She had started to fall into hopelessness, and nothing she tried could help her. She had fallen deeper and deeper, not knowing how to stop.

Then she had found him. One morning, the sirens had started. She had cowered in her flat- the one that belonged to her mother- as the bombs fell. When the sounds of destruction had faded, and the sirens had silenced, she had run down the streets, to where entire blocks lay, broken and crushed, before her.

She had walked for hours around the once-brilliant buildings. She was starting to walk her way through the remains of a once smaller, abandoned structure, when she thought she saw movement. She moved to its source, and she had found him, found Aang, underneath all the boulders and rubble. He was surrounded by so much blood, trapped, broken, and ripped open.

Nobody was there for him. There was nobody else trapped within the building. He was alone. He had been abandoned. She couldn't bear to leave him, fighting for his life, trapped beneath the blood stained rubble, so she took him in, and played the nurse.

She didn't think she would get so attached.

Over the weeks, they got closer to each other. They became family. They relied on each other, supported each other. But before he could heal, Aang got sick. _Very_ sick. If she didn't do _something_ soon, if she didn't find _anything _to help him, there was no way he was going to fight through it by himself. He would lose. And so would she.

She finally traded some trinkets for some medicine of some kind, and she rushed her way back to the flat.

Just to find Aang lying in the middle of the one room, absolutely still.

And so cold to touch.

* * *

_Aang's POV_

* * *

He was cold. Freezing. He didn't know where he was. Who he was.

Why couldn't he move? What was the pain in his side? God, the pain! It felt like someone was searing through his bones, through his _head, _with a white-hot knife. He cried out, calling for help, but no sound escaped his lips. The pain only got worse. He curled up, trying to smother it out. Only for it to increase. He couldn't bare it. He didn't want to bare it.

A cold feeling spread though his stomach and he welcomed it. He let it creep through him, relying on the instant relief it brought. It quelled the pain in his side, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep, to close his eyes. He gave in to the cold, and then he was floating.

Then he heard the voice. Katara's voice. She was calling to him. Begging him to stay.

He remembered that he would do anything for her. That he needed her. And that she needed him.

Fighting against the drowsiness - the coldness - he clawed, kicked and struggled his way back towards her voice. He was tired, so, so tired, but he didn't let himself stop. Not for anything.

The pain found him, and threatened to drag him under again, but his draw to her was stronger. He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see. For a moment, there was nothing but pain, making him cry out. Then there were warm hands on his face, chasing the pain away.

His vision cleared, and he was looking up at her.

She was here. She didn't abandon him. She didn't hate him. She brought him back.

'You found me,' he gasped.

She placed a hand on his forehead. 'And you found me,' she said.

* * *

**A/N: So, yeah. There it is. It's a real Kataangst, isn't it? I wrote this while listening to 'If I lose myself' by One Republic. The original version was floating around in my notebook, so I decided my fingers weren't sore enough so i edited/typed it up. What do you'll think? i know the ending was a bit rushed, but I didn't know what else to do.  
**

**(Yes, Chels. _This_ one IS meant to be a romance. happy?)**

**Should I continue with it? I know _I _want to explore their backgrounds a bit more. And it was fun to write, so . . . thoughts? C'om guys, Reveiw! I haven't been Reveiw-ed yet :( Press that button and Reveiw! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry, guys. This took forever to write. I had to do basic back-stories so I knew where to go, but writing the actual thing . . . it was harder than what I thought. All their flashbacks were gonna be included in a single chapter, but it was going to be way to long. And I needed to come up with a 'problem' to keep the story going; otherwise it would be a pretty pointless storyline. Bah! I can't keep up a steady rhythm. You should hear me try to tell a joke. I fail so hard. *whispers* have you heard the purple milkshake joke?**

**Without further ado . . . Chapter 2!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Leaf me alone. **

* * *

_Aang was frantically stirring the 'soup' in the pot, wondering what he had done wrong. He was pretty sure soup wasn't meant to be lumpy and sticky. He had to serve _something _up for tea soon, or the others would get mad. But edible food was hard to come by these days, thanks to the war._

_Maybe, if he got some bread, he'd be able to fix the soup, or at least hide the fact that he was a terrible cook . . ._

_He turned to the grimy cupboard, but, as he did, his shirt sleeve caught on something, and the pot crashed to the floor and shattered. Hot soup flew everywhere. Aang jumped back with a shocked yell, trying to brush off the burning liquid._

_The kitchen door slammed open, and a dark shadow loomed in the doorway._

_Aang's . . . _Father_ stalked in, fury on his face._

_Aang backed away, into the corner, as the man got closer. "I – I'm sorry! It was an accident. P-please, I'm sorry!" _

_The man ignored Aang's pleas, undoing his belt and slipping it from his waist, and snapping it out threateningly .With his back pressed to the wall, Aang sank further into the corner, trying to get away from the man._

"_No, no . . . please . . ."_

_Once again, the man paid him no attention. _

_Later, Aang crawled into his pathetic excuse of a bed, shaking and bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears, but to no avail. His whole body was numb, thankfully. But it wouldn't stay like that. He knew that in a few minutes, the numbness would wear away, and he would feel his wounds._

_He needed to get out. He needed to escape this place. But how? There was no way he could survive out in the streets, not with a war going on._

_But he couldn't survive too much longer here, either._

_He didn't know what to do. He felt so alone . . . so small. _

_Suddenly, feeling started returning to his body, and he gasped. It hurt. This hurt more than the other times. He locked his jaw, knowing that if he made any noise, the man would come and finish the job._

_He doesn't know how he's going make it through the night. And, what scared him even more was that he didn't know if he cared or not._

* * *

Aang abruptly sat up, gasping and shaking. He looked around wildly, calming only when he saw Katara's sleeping form, next to him on the mattress on the floor. Everything was alright. _They _weren't here. Never again would theyhurt him.

All that was in the past. He should forget them. He _needed _to forget them. But . . . he couldn't shake off the feeling from the dream. The felling that he still . . . that he still _belonged _to them, somehow. That he would always have to look over his shoulder, watching to see if they would come back.

The shaking got worse, and his arms wouldn't hold him up. Collapsing back onto the mattress, he let out a low growl. He hated being weak. His injuries from the bombing had yet to fully heal, and even thing things like standing, or even sitting up, drained him. He hated not being able to move. It made him feel vulnerable.

Katara woke when she felt someone fall back into the mattress. She half rolled over, looking over her shoulder. Aang was awake, staring up at the ceiling, shaking. Dread washed through her. "Aang? Aang, are you okay?"

Aang spun his head towards her, startled, but quickly recovered. "I'm fine. I just had a dream. It woke me up, and I tried to sit up. And . . . well, yeah."

"Okay then . . . are you sure that's all?"

Aang tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine. I'll go back to sleep now." He rolled over so he was facing away from her, and didn't make any more noise. Katara slowly laid down again. She couldn't blame him. He was most likely caught up in his memories . . . just like she was.

After the bombing - after almost losing Aang, she couldn't help but remember when everything was alright. But that was ages ago. The war started years ago, just before she turned ten. She was fourteen now. Two years since she had seen her brother and father. A year since her mother died. She wanted them all back.

* * *

_Katara stood at the doorway, clinging to her mother's waist, tears streaming down her face. She looked up into her mother's face,__seeking comfort, but her mother could only open her mouth; no words would come. _

_She turned back to the door, where her father and brother stood, with small suitcases. Sokka was clearly holding back tears, but her father made no such effort. They fell freely down his face. _

_Suddenly, her mother found her voice. "Ha-Hakoda! Why? Don't go, don't leave us!" _

_Hakoda stepped forward, grabbing Kya's wrists. "Kya, you know why we have to do this. We have to help fight this war. I wouldn't leave you if I had the choice."_

"_What about Sokka? He's sixteen! He can't go! P-please . . . don't do this . . ."_

_Hakoda wrapped his wife into a hug. "Exactly. He's sixteen. He has chosen to go. I can't stop him. I can only help him." _

_Kya broke down, sobbing while Hakoda held her. Katara didn't know what to do. What could she do? _

_She suddenly sat down on the floor; her legs would no longer hold her up. As her tears blurred her vision, she could see Sokka approach her. He knelt down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Katara. Katara, you need to listen to me. Katara."_

_Katara looked up. "S-Sokka . . ."_

"_Katara, I need to go. I need to do this. I'm so sorry to do this to you," Sokka's voice broke, but he kept going. "But you need to stay here. You need to take care of Mum. Can you do that for me?" _

_Katara started to shake her head slowly. "I – I don't think . . . don't think . . ."_

_Sokka held her chin gently and made her look up. "You're twelve years old. You can do this. I promise, I _will _come back. I would never leave you. You just need to take care of Mum while I'm gone. Then I'll come back. And I'll bring Dad with me. I promise you."_

_Finally, Katara nodded, still crying. Sokka pulled her into a fierce hug, burying his face into her hair. "I will miss you so much," he whispered into her ear. "Don't you dare forget how much I love you. How much we _both _love you."_

_Then he stood, and he and Hakoda left, leaving them alone._

* * *

Katara stood at the stove, trying to coax it to light. They had run out of fire lighters a while ago, and hadn't been able to get some since. Because they were broke. They were lucky to have this flat, even if was only one room and a leaky roof. The winter was fast approaching, so they had to save as much wood as they could. When she first tried – days ago - Katara had struggled to light a fire with a few twigs, but then Aang proved to have a talent of making flames with almost nothing. When Katara had first asked where he had learnt it, pain had flashed in his eyes before he could look down. He had mumbled something about learning cooking with fire 'before'.

Katara hadn't pushed any further than that. She didn't have to ask how he 'learnt' it. As much as he tried to hide them, she could see the scars on his hands.

Cursing, she threw the kindle she had collected down on the floor with a bit more force than necessary. She needed a hot meal, and their stupid stove had broken. She had no idea how to make a safe fire, but she didn't want to wake Aang. He was still recovering, and his internal clock was seriously messed up at the moment, so he was hardly getting any sleep.

Sighing, she went to the cupboard, and took out a stale pack of biscuits. Nibbling on one, she tried her best to stay awake. Unlike Aang, she slept a lot, but she always woke up more tired than she had before. She couldn't explain it. Her dreams where often plagued with nightmares and horrors, but she never seemed to be able to wake up.

Sometimes, she would be shaken awake by Aang. He would be crouched over her, sometimes shouting her name, begging her to wake up. After her screams and hysterics subsided, he would pull her into fierce hug, saying that it would be alright, even though he didn't know what was wrong.

They would always sleep in each other's arms after those nights.

Suddenly, Katara was startled from her thoughts by Aang, calling her name in a low voice. She rushed out to where he was, propped up on his elbows, looking at the door wearily.

"Aang, what is it? Is som-" Her question was cut short; Aang had quickly grabbed her wrist, motioning for her to be quiet. She knelt, dropping her voice to a low whisper. "What? What happened?"

Aang pointed to the door, his face guarded. "A piece of paper . . . someone slipped a piece of paper under the door. I don't know if they're still here."

Suddenly, someone banged on the door, making them both jump. The person outside thundered on the door again, then laughed drunkenly and left. At least, it _sounded _like they left. Katara and Aang stayed frozen for a whole 15 minutes, scared to death that the intruder would return.

Finally, Aang nudged Katara. "Who . . . who was that? Do you know them?" Katara shook her head.

"No, I don't know anyone around here. No one knows me, either. I don't know what's going on."

"What does it say on the paper?" Katara crept forward, ready to turn and run if she needed. Aang watched from the mattress, hating the fact that he couldn't even stand and help her if the intruder came back. That he was grounded, and totally dependent on the girl that needed his help.

Hesitantly, Katara picked up the paper. He watched as she read it slowly, then froze, the colour rapidly draining from her face. Aang tried to jump up, only crashing back to the mattress despite his efforts. Desperately, he called her name until she responded.

Katara walked over to where Aang sat, one arm gripping his side, and handed him the paper. No, the note. The threat note. She closed her eyes, but the letters still burned brightly in her mind.

_We know who you are. We know that you are just a child. You have something we want. Overpowering you will be too easy, it won't even be fun. So, we are giving you three days to move out of your little house. If you don't, we _will _move you for you. And I'm sure we'll find ways to make it fun. This is your first warning, little girl. _

_And now we know about the crippled boy you keep with you. All the more fun._

Aang looked up. "What do we do? Katara? What . . . I don't know what to do. Katara!"

Katara slowly met his gaze, not caring if she was scaring him. A note . . . telling them to give up their only shelter. Just like last time. Just like what happened with her mum. She could still remember it.

_Give us your house. Give us your house, or we'll burn you and make your daughter watch. And then we'll kill her. You have 40 hours._

"Katara!" Aang grabbed Katara's wrist's, pulling her down beside him. "Katara! Talk to me, please!" Katara slowly turned her head to Aang.

"We have to leave. We'll leave, and they'll leave us be. It happened before. If they get want they want, they'll let us go. Just like before." Katara realised she was shaking. This was happening _again. _After she made sure she found a place to stay that was small enough not to track attention. After making sure their presence was unknown. But they had still found them. The gangs on the street, they had them cornered.

So they had to leave. Just like last time. Last time, both her and her mum made it out, giving their family's house without being hurt. And they had survived on the street before they had found this place. Now they had to do it again. But, instead of her mother, she had Aang. He needed her right now. She needed him now, too. She couldn't let them hurt him.

"We need to leave," she repeated, and Aang nodded, too scared to argue.

* * *

**A/N: That, my friends, is my attempt at a cliff hanger. I have no idea what they are gonna do. I'll have to write a third chapter. Good God, this one exhausted me. What am I gonna do? *Put hand to forehead and pretends to swoon* **

**Does that confuse you? Me being all sarcastic in these author's notes, being stupid and (trying to be) funny, but my story is all dark and depressed. I have no idea why, either. My mind has a mind of its own . . .**

**Just saying, Kya doesn't die by giving up the house. Both she and Katara make it out unharmed, and the thugs leave them alone. Kya and Katara live on the streets for a bit. More about that next . . . **

**Review! Pretty Please with Sugar on top?**

**Gru: The physical appearance of the please doesn't matter.**

**Me: Shut up and let me beg in peace. **


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